


Just Another Day

by Mairaa



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marco being a birb, Mild Gore, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mairaa/pseuds/Mairaa
Summary: Snippets of life. Collection of Marco and Ace short stories focusing on Marco's avian tendencies. Chapters are linked but can be read independently.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 50
Kudos: 318
Collections: Marco and Ace Fics





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re smiling,” Ace stated, voice low in the dim light of Marco’s room, his upper body propped up with one elbow while his other hand caressed Marco’s cheek. 

There was no answer, not a human one at least, because Marco _cooed_. It started off with a chirp that was of a higher pitch before the sound continued as a soft but deep murmur until the vibration from Marco’s throat stopped. Then it started all over again. Ace was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. 

“I keep telling people you’re adorable,” Ace moved his palm to Marco’s throat, gently resting his fingers on the sides of the strong neck, feeling the calming vibration under his palm. “No one believes me.” 

Marco had his eyes closed, breathing slow and deep while he continued cooing. He was not much of a talker in and out of bed but his phoenix was a different story, especially when it came to Ace. 

“I mean you coo,” Ace blabbered on, eyes wide and grin wider, wavering candlelight reflected beautifully in his dark irises. “Like a pigeon. It’s so stinking cute.” 

Marco popped his eyes open, brows raised high in amusement as he drawled, “Mmm… thank you.” He looked at Ace, at the playful fire in those eyes, at the joyful crinkles around those lips. It was moments like this when he felt most at peace, his phoenix even more so. Marco closed his eyes and continued cooing, and Ace laughed.

\-----

It was a bright, sunny day on Moby Dick. 

Pops was sitting on the deck enjoying the sun, some crewmates were taking naps with shirts over their eyes, snores almost as loud as the flock of seagulls soaring past. Ace flopped onto his back, thinking to catch some shuteye alongside his crewmates, eyes squinting due to the sun. Then he saw. 

In all his phoenix glory, Marco was perching on top of Moby Dick’s main mast, his blue and yellow flames shone even brighter in the day, rippling slowly like waves. It was as if time itself had slowed and Ace was gaping, mesmerized. 

Marco extended one of his wings, swished it a couple of times in the air before ducking his head into his wings. The phoenix’s elegant neck was curved to the side and there was this little tremor, almost unnoticed, on the extended wing whenever Marco ducked his head in. Marco’s other wing received the same attention and Ace’s eyes were watering so bad from looking directly at the sun. 

It was a breathtaking display, strong and powerful, made so by the wide berth of Marco’s wingspan. It was also stupid cute because Marco had to do this little tremor that made his flames fluffed out like actual plumage. 

When Marco finally decided that he had sunned enough, he raised his head, trilled, the sound bright and cheerful, and did a full body tremor that went from his beak to the golden ringlets swishing lazily in the air. The flames dissipated soon after, as Marco returned to his human form and took watch on top of Moby Dick’s main mast. 

“Unbelievable,” Ace muttered to himself, putting his hat over his face now that the show was over, grinning from ear to ear. “This shit is unbelievable.” 

\-----

Ace always needed to move, to talk, to do something. It was his nature and it was not exactly compatible with Marco who enjoyed a quiet evening with books. 

“Marcoooo…” Ace whined. He was on his back on Marco’s bed, feet raised and rested on the wall beside the bed, waist twisted at an uncomfortable angle. “I’m bored. I need to do something!” 

“How about next quarter’s budget for Division Two yoi?” Marco had his back to the headboard, he was holding a book in one hand while the other patted Ace’s head gently. 

“Oh god shut up,” Ace replied, exasperated. “Can I do you?” 

“Not today.” 

“Can you do me?”

“I just did yoi.” 

“Ugh!” Ace put his feet down and started kicking at Marco’s calves. “I know I promised to spend the evening with you but you gotta let me do something!” 

Marco glanced at the younger man, taking in the flushed and sweaty body, the tousled dark hair between his fingers. Life was good, he thought, before returning to his book. “Thank you, Ace. You’re beautiful.” 

“Wha- Where does that even come from?! What the hell Marco? You think you can… oh,” Ace sputtered and blabbered, still not used to getting compliments, but came to a sudden stop when he saw what Marco offered. 

“OH.” 

Ace had seen them a few times before but never this close. He always thought they were elegant, magnificent even, with the color more gold than yellow compared to the rest of Marco’s flames. The strings of ringlets, all three of them, were swishing languidly and casting a warm glow on surrounding objects without any heat. 

Ace slowly reached out with one hand, wanting to touch but right before he made contact, the tail moved just slightly out of his reach. This continued until the twelfth failed attempt when Ace punched Marco on the arm none too gently, seething, “You ass! It’s on!” 

It was then a full blown wrestle on Marco’s bed, with Ace crouching and leaping and twisting in the limited space they shared, trying to get hold of Marco’s tails. Marco was still on his book but his tails were moving around so fast they were a blur of golden light.

At some point he had to yell to someone outside his door that everything was fine and Ace was not trying to kill him. At some point later he had to play dirty and undid the transformation because Ace _almost_ got him. 

“Hey that’s unfair!” Ace’s fists grabbed onto nothing, his torso rested on top of Marco’s thighs and his feet kicked the wall with enough force that it cracked a little. 

“Don’t go around breaking things yoi,” Marco set his palm on Ace’s back, rubbing slow circles in an attempt to soothe the younger man. “I kept you occupied.” 

Ace flipped over and stared at Marco, breathing heavy due to exertion, “Asshole.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Dumb fucking chicken.” 

Marco smiled at that, a small tug at the corner of his lips and Ace flushed a little before his eyes turned wide and he snapped his head to look at his ankles. 

Wrapping around Ace’s right ankle was one of the tails, shining in its glorious golden hue, emanating no heat but still its presence can be felt on Ace’s skin. Ace stared, dumbfounded, his brain refusing to work. Another tail was then placed on his hands and Ace turned his hands over so that the rippling appendage rested on his palms, captivating and surreal beyond words. The final tail moved to caress Ace’s face. From his forehead to the tip of his nose then to his lips, and Ace closed his eyes, lashes fluttering as he felt the tail resting gently on the side of his face. 

It turned out to be a quiet evening after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Ace first noticed Marco’s avian instincts months after he bore the sign of Whitebeard Pirates on his back. 

It was the third week where no fights were happening, not with marines, not with pirates, not between the crews. Pops’ readings were stable, wind was on their side, sky cloudy but sea calm. Despite the near-perfect circumstances, Marco was surprisingly, noticeably restless. 

Marco would hang out on the deck with pops and read, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, fingers flipping pages absentmindedly. He would sometimes talk and pops would laugh, a booming sound that quaked the deck. Everything seemed to be in a relaxed manner, except Marco’s sandaled feet that tapped away impatiently. 

Marco would walk. From bow to stern, stern to bow, repeat. Ace watched, amused, from the top of Moby Dick’s main mast, chuckling slightly as he saw the purple dot passing by for the sixth time. He was curious, weighing the pros and cons of asking his crewmates, knowing how nosy and annoying they could be when they wanted to be. 

It was not until dinner time that Ace had an inkling of what was going on. Dinner was always a noisy, messy affair and Marco was mercilessly teased at the commanders’ table. They were calling him names, bird, chicken, turkey but never phoenix. 

“I’m betting 100 Beri that Marco needs to lay eggs.” That was Thatch, currently flying across the hall from Marco’s kick. 

“I bet against that with my full net worth yoi.” 

“Rule number three, Marco. Rule number three. If your name appears in a bet you don’t get to bet.” 

Ace was having a hard time keeping his grin under control but he really didn’t have to. Everyone, commanders and crews alike, was laughing at Marco’s expense and Ace had the sudden realization that this, this was family. 

“Our resident bird having birdy problems. What could it be? Place your bet now and stand a chance to win!” Thatch was shouting across the hall, using rolled paper as an amplifier and chef hat as a makeshift container to collect the biddings. Stuffing food into his mouth, Marco looked so done at that point that he asked people to shut up by kicking them. 

It was at nightfall when the bet result was finalized. There were some crews on the deck hanging out, pops went to rest for the night and the sound of waves a soothing background noise. Ace was catching up with his old friend Masked Deuce, happily sipping booze from East Blue when a burst of flames suddenly went alive at the masthead and shot right up into the sky. 

Ace snapped his head up to follow the source of light, knowing by heart that it was Marco in his phoenix form. It was a cloudy night so the phoenix was not visible at all times. It was almost like a brewing storm, masses of blue shining through dark clouds, zipping from one end to the other, swift as lightning. 

Then Marco escaped the layers of cloud, nosedived towards the sea, and right before hitting water, the phoenix did a spin that made his tails swung and twirled before switching to gliding elegantly above sea surface. Marco flew far, until there was nothing much in Ace’s line of sight apart from a shining blue dot, and he once again shot up to the cloudy sky like a bolt of lightning in reverse direction. 

“I swear this damn bird lives to show-off.”

“Dang should’ve bet on flying instead of sunning…” 

“One day I’ll win by betting on laying eggs. Perseverance is key.” 

People around Ace were making comments as they watched Marco handling his avian problem like an expert. Ace held out his open palm to Thatch, grinning triumphantly as he received his very first reward from Marco’s phoenix instincts. 

As time progressed, trust built and fortified, Ace was in turn rewarded with more and more of Marco’s instincts which were not privy to others. 

Marco would coo, usually at night when they were about to rest, showing contentment. He would keep his bed neat and full of pillows, making it a worthy nest for Ace. He would whistle, a melodious tune, beautiful and relaxing as Ace napped. He would tap his feet, always the right one, when Ace drove him up the wall but he never let his temper show, not to Ace. 

There were a lot more, and they were all very special to Ace. These would be his lifetime treasures, intangible but just as important as his orange hat and red beads. 

\-----

“How many types of sound can you make as a bird?” 

Ace was taking a stroll on the island’s beautiful shoreline, enjoying the breeze and the feeling of waves lapping at his feet. It was early dusk, the sun barely rising over the horizon and there was no one around except for Marco who walked on his side, their arms brushing occasionally. 

The Whitebeard Pirates docked on a nearby island two days ago and they had done their part of replenishing the ship’s supplies. Some locals in a bar spoke about a stunning spring island accessible via a quick boat ride, with endless shoreline and without human presence, and the other commanders immediately decided that it would be the perfect location for a date. 

“You coo when you’re content,” Ace continued, hands linked behind his head, feet kicking at the seawater that made him felt somewhat lethargic. “You make that high pitched, continuous sound when you’re happy or excited. What else?” 

“Man’s gotta have his secrets yoi,” Marco snorted and placed a hand on Ace’s waist, guiding him away from a sudden burst of waves that almost reached his calves. 

“C’mon!” Ace wrapped an arm around Marco’s broad shoulder, stretching a little due to the height difference. “No one will hear you except me, don’t be shy!” 

Marco hummed, gently smiling but did not answer. Ace’s dark hair shone like obsidian under the early morning sun, his freckles a constellation from cheek to cheek, his smile bright and his eyes full of mirth.

“Like for example, what do you do when you’re sad?” Ace continued prodding, not giving up just yet. He knew Marco by now that if he pestered long enough, he might just win. 

“I cry.” 

Ace gave a full body laugh at that, punching Marco’s arm, “You know what I meant!” 

“Sun’s rising yoi. Look,” Marco pointed at the horizon, hands guiding Ace to stand in front of him as he lifted his chin to rest on top of Ace’s unruly mane. It was truly a breathtaking sight. The sun, the sky, the sea, _Ace_. 

And his phoenix sang. A complex song filled with different tones and tunes, at times with short bursts of quick chirping in succession, at times with deep, drawn out vibration right out of his chest, at times with melodious, long whistling that seemed to last forever. A song full of praises and adoration, a song of eternity befitting to the one. 

Ace could hardly breathe, let alone think, as he heard and _felt_ the song. Marco’s chest was vibrating on his back, their fingers entwined and rested on top of his pounding heart. It was otherworldly and perfect and Ace wondered what he did to deserve any of this. 

“Holy shit Marco.” It took Ace a while to get his emotion under control, feeling strangely lightheaded. Marco turned him around and held him loosely at his shoulder, head tilted, gaze questioning. Ace rubbed his eyes with the foot of his palm, not daring to look at Marco so he gave him a hug instead. 

Marco returned the hug, hands rubbing circles at Ace’s back, lips pressing kisses on top of Ace’s head. Ace felt like a bundle of fire in his embrace, burning and restless, and Marco tightened his arms. 

His phoenix would sing an eternity for Ace, for one day Ace would see that he was deserving. 


	3. Chapter 3

Marco’s phoenix perceived Ace as a potential mate way earlier than Marco himself did. 

Their destination this time around was a winter island, the night cold as expected but bright due to festive lights. A group of them were in town, partying in one of the many taverns with dancers who dressed like it was midsummer. 

“Who got number six?” Ace peered at the end of the stick he drew, looking around the table for some indication. Namur waved his stick cheerfully.

“Uh I was wondering, how do fishmen look like y’know, down there?” Ace made vague circles on top of his crotch, looking expectantly at Namur because that was actually a genuine question out of curiosity. 

Namur was cool about it. He went on to explain the full anatomy of fishmen and while he was at it, he tossed in some merfolk information which got the whole table flipping in excitement.

“What the hell Namur! Mermaids can actually do that and you didn’t think of telling us earlier?!” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic question, Ace!” 

Marco was drinking at the bar with Izo and Jozu when he heard the commotion. He looked over his shoulder wanting to make sure everything was under control but his eyes unfortunately met Thatch’s. Thatch grinned.

“So Marco my friend, how’s little birdy doing down there?” Bodily dragging Marco over to their table, Thatch had his arm wrapped tightly around Marco’s shoulder with Izo and Jozu in tow. “Oh wait, birds have no little birdies do they?” 

Their crewmates hollered at that, slapping their own thighs, spilling booze all over. 

“... Really?! So you don’t pee when you’re a bird? Or you do it different?” That was Ace, eyes practically shining from the new discovery. 

“Oh Ace. ACE!” Thatch placed his palms on Ace’s cheeks and _squeezed_. “You see, birds have this thing called cloa… Hey hands off hands ooahhhhh!!”

In a flash, Marco had Thatch in a headlock as his other hand pressed relentlessly on a sore spot on Thatch’s shoulder, Thatch screamed bloody murder.

“Tap out! Tap oouuut!” 

“Shut your trap yoi.” 

Marco eventually set Thatch free and he relaxed in the tavern a little longer before leaving at the earliest with Jozu. Much later that night, Izo took Ace with him when the group decided to go for a second round in another bar, his exact words being “That’s enough stupid for one night. Ace, come.” 

“Hey Marco!” Ace was obviously drunk when he returned to Moby Dick, lipstick smear bright red on his forehead. “You missed all the fun,” he grinned, face tinted pink as he sniffled. “I got you some good stuff,” Ace started rummaging around his paper bag, tearing it in the process before he pulled out two bottles of booze and handed them to Marco. “Here.”

Taking the bottles from Ace, Marco barely had time to adjust his stance before Ace unzipped his coat in a flurry of action and pulled Marco into a hug, head resting on the side of Marco’s neck. Ace was warm. He wore just an open shirt underneath yet Marco could feel heat seeping through his layers along with the overpowering scent of alcohol and cigarettes. 

Marco saw the hug coming and had allowed it to happen after his initial surprise. So when Ace held on and hummed a god awful song with all the higher notes breaking, Marco tolerated it and enjoyed the warmth a little longer. 

It took a good minute before Ace released his hold, took a step back and looked at Marco, all smiles and grins. 

“Thatch made me do that to everyone. Said I’m the hottest heater out there.” 

“Zip your coat.” 

“Thatch also told me how birds do their business. Are you...”

“Don’t ask yoi.”

Ace looked a little miffed at that but they did drink in comfortable silence afterwards, quietly observing the town as Ace radiated warmth from his side. 

Unbeknownst to both of them, one of Marco’s phoenix tails was out and curling around Ace from behind, fluttering on the floor, sometimes reaching out towards Ace but never did end up touching. 

\----- 

Ace’s temper was like fire, fiery, burning everything in its path but never stayed for long. On the other hand, Marco’s temper was like a lake, calm, tranquil and barely rippled. This was one of their major differences and it never sat well with Ace. 

Marco reasoned logically. His voice even as he provided rationale behind his actions, wanting Ace to understand where he was coming from. Ace would pace restlessly, raise his voice and on some rare occasions slam his hands on Marco’s desk because he was _furious._ Ace never listened, not from the beginning anyway. 

It took them a few tries before they worked out a standard operating procedure to handle their arguments. Step one, Marco’s explanation and Ace’s spiteful retort. This would fuel their fight to the next stage. Step two, one of them, mostly Ace, would leave the scene and go cool down somewhere. If Marco was lucky, smaller arguments would end here as Ace would apologize soon after he saw reason. 

Bigger arguments brought them to step three where they would meet at Moby Dick’s dojo past midnight, air thick with tension while they put on seastone cuffs to seal their powers, and they would fight. Punching, kicking, grappling at each other, going for takedowns and submission holds. 

This normally would end with Marco pinning Ace to the ground in various choking positions. Ace being Ace would spew profanities while being choked out of breath, putting all his vocabularies to good use and Marco would maintain hold and _wait_. It always took some time before Ace willingly tapped out, chest heaving as he took deep breaths to calm himself. 

The submission hold Marco had on Ace usually allowed him to turn it into a hug easily. He would then nuzzle Ace’s neck, press gentle kisses and rub slow circles at possible sore spots. “Let’s don’t be angry anymore,” Marco would say in a low voice. “Hear me out. Please.” And Ace would finally, _finally_ listen. 

Step four, fuck like bunnies through the night until they were both exhausted beyond words, until Ace had no energy left in him to be angry. And the fight would be officially over. 

Marco as a human was extremely patient and forgiving towards Ace. He acknowledged his frustration but could control it well enough that he never showed his temper. Marco as a phoenix however, was just another ball of fire waiting to explode. 

Step three would go completely different if Marco and Ace found a place to fight with their powers activated. The fight would go on for days if not for the two hours rule they agreed upon. Flames would burn, heal and blend together in an extravagant show of blue and red. Ace went all out in these fights, knowing Marco could take what he had to offer. And Marco would regenerate as he fought, haki infused kicks sending Ace flying across half the island sometimes. 

When the two hours time was up, Ace would be the first to dissipate his flames. He would lay flat on the ground all worn out while Marco flew to his side in full phoenix form, wings spread wide as he landed. The phoenix would make agitated clacks and hisses before it started to _peck_. 

First a small one on Ace’s head. _You have a brain. Right here. Use it._

The next one landed on the tip of Ace’s right ear. _Why won’t you listen?_

Third one went back to Ace’s head. _If I become bald one day I will pluck all your hair out._

Then a series of non-stop pecks on the back of Ace’s hand. _You drive me nuts I swear. You drive me NUTS._

Ace would just smile at this point, never retracting his hand despite the abuse from the phoenix. He would raise his other hand and gently smoothed the fluffed out flames over Marco’s tattoo, humming a happy tune. When the phoenix seemed to be comforted by his action, Ace would try his luck and bury his face in the blue flames, turning his head to find a comfortable position while enduring the occasional but continuous pecks. 

They would stay like that until Marco returned to human form and embraced Ace, replacing mean pecks with kisses and touches. “You’re so cute when you’re a bird I literally can’t deal,” Ace would comment while looking at Marco, eyes full of mirth and Marco would hold Ace’s marked hand and kiss everything better. 

Step four would come after they talked their disagreement over, but for now there was nothing to be fought about anymore. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ace loved the sun. He would spend his free time lounging around the deck, chatting amiably with his crewmates when the weather was fine and things were slow. He would sometimes fall asleep when his narcolepsy hit, head lolling in all kinds of weird positions, saliva dripping down from his slightly ajar mouth. 

Marco realized his affection when he found a snoring, drooling Ace endearing beyond words. Marco’s phoenix had everything sorted out much earlier thanks to instinct. 

Then there was Kotatsu. Former member of Spade Pirates, rescued by Ace from poachers, a lynx who loved the sun as much as Ace did. Ace would use Kotatsu as a backrest when they sunned together, the lynx often purring, the sound deep and rumbling. He would curl up to Kotatsu, one leg resting on top of the giant cat as he napped. There was also a video provided by Thatch, where Kotatsu was sleeping paws-up and Ace buried his face in Kotatsu’s belly, inhaling deeply as he muttered, “So cute. Why are you so cute.” 

Marco would not mind being Kotatsu. 

It was a chilly autumn morning when the Whitebeard Pirates docked on an island famed for its entertainment establishments. Pops went on land to meet an old friend, the nurses disembarked for a shopping spree and the rest of the crew were heading either towards bars, casinos or massage parlours. Marco volunteered to remain on board, finally getting the time to work on an encrypted map he recently obtained. 

It was nearly nightfall when Ace found him in his cabin, bringing him dinner. 

“You work too much,” Ace commented as he flopped down on the floor at the far end of Marco’s cabin, the room having only one chair. Marco removed his glasses and handed the decrypted map to Ace, the smell of food permeating his cabin as he unwrapped his dinner, “I’m not working yoi.” 

Ace had good eyes. They were capable of noticing the smallest details when it came to maps, and they shone bright when he found something interesting. Ace shared Marco’s passion in cartography, and Marco was more than happy to have another pair of eyes reviewing his work. 

They spent the night chatting, discussing the possibility of getting to their destination without altering Moby Dick’s original course and the distribution of spoils if they found any. Ace’s laughter was contagious as he unashamedly asked for a seven three split after pointing out a tiny flaw in Marco’s decryption. 

“Don’t be stingy now, Marco.”

Marco scoffed as Ace wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, eyes crinkling around the corners. Later that night they found themselves enjoying drinks while speaking about childhood, an exceptional treat because Ace still kept his distance despite gradually warming up to the crew. 

“...Called us shitty brats, smoked like a chimney, cursed like a sailor. She’s manlier than most men,” Ace laughed, a beautiful sound. “But wore a pink, frilly nightdress when she slept. Unbelievable. We gave her hell when we were kids and she practically raised us.” Ace’s laughter turned into a fond smile at this point, long fingers gently thumbing his red necklace. 

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.” 

“Yeah. She is.” 

Much later that night, Ace fell asleep leaning against Marco’s bed after having too much to drink, empty bottles scattered haphazardly on the floor. He smelled like alcohol with a hint of cigarettes, chest moving steadily as he breathed, snores barely audible. Marco looked at the younger man for a long time, at the small smile tugged on those lips, at the insanely thick lashes fluttering once in a while. 

Ace had this innate ability to draw people to him, even more so when he chose to be open and forthcoming. He was like his own fire, bright and enthralling without even trying. 

Marco reached out to remove Ace’s hat and necklace, setting them on top of his cabinet before he pulled a blanket over the fire user. The image of Ace snuggling with Kotatsu came to his mind and Marco debated briefly between instinct and logic before he gave in and transformed into full Zoan form, casting a bluish glow in his cabin. The phoenix kept his talons on the underside as he roosted beside Ace, blue flames spiking to life with streaks of yellow whenever Ace shifted and they touched. 

Ace was unbelievably warm, just like how Marco remembered. 

The phoenix placed his head against Ace’s forehead, softly cooing before he turned his head to an impossible angle, tucked his beak into his back and formed a round bundle of flames. He would wake up before Ace to clean the mess in his room, but for now Ace was warm and he would sleep. 

\-----

The first time Marco spent time alone with Ace outside of Moby Dick, he was bleeding out from a deep gash in his abdomen. 

Ace was relatively unscathed as he carried Marco and _ran,_ the sheer number of higher ranking marines too much to handle right now since only one of them could fight. 

“Shit, I can’t take this off,” Ace started running again, this time towards his striker as he realized there was nothing he could do about the seastone cuffs.

“I can run yoi.”

“Fuck no. I do not want to see intestines dropping all over the place!”

Marco snorted at that and had to bite his jaw to endure the sharp pain shooting up his spine. To be fair, Ace was right. He was holding his wound together with both hands so that nothing important spilled, the gash so deep that someone normal would not have survived.

They managed to board the striker but could not get to open sea due to the fleet of marine ships patrolling around. Ace changed direction and headed towards a deserted island, having to memorize the geographical disposition of surrounding areas, and left his striker at a secluded bay hidden by huge boulders on the beach. 

They settled at a clearing with a running stream close by, Ace spreading his cape on the ground before helping Marco to lay on top. He assessed the older man’s wounds, fingers skimming across bloody skin in an attempt to find hidden but possibly life-threatening injuries. Multiple shot-through bullet wounds on upper torso, shallow cut on forehead and laceration on abdomen. It was unsettling to see Marco bled.

“What can I do?” 

“Help me draw my knees up,” Marco instructed as he focused on staunching the blood flow. He had gotten used to the constant pain but he would like to be relieved from the cramps. Ace was careful when he moved Marco’s legs, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, palms clammy with sweat. 

“Is this ok? Anything else?” 

“Loosen my sash yoi.”

Fingers doing quick work on Marco’s sash, Ace unfastened the piece of clothing with some difficulties due to the amount of blood soaking through. Noticing Ace was on the verge of hyperventilating, Marco managed a smile and said, “I’ll be fine yoi. Breathe.” 

“I saw what's inside, Marco. For fuck’s sake before you covered the wound I saw. How is that fine?” Ace’s voice was soft as he spoke, his hand gentle as he smoothed Marco’s hair away from his blood-caked forehead. 

Marco did not reply as he thought of the right thing to say. His injuries were severe but they would not kill him as long as he could get the cuffs off in time. 

“I was young when I ate my devil fruit. Took every chance to test my limits yoi.” 

Ace looked at Marco with a questioning gaze but did not stop him from speaking. He propped Marco’s head onto his thigh, made sure the older man was comfortable and sighed in relief when he noticed the deepest wound was no longer bleeding a river.

“I started with small cuts and they healed immediately. Then I moved on to deeper cuts and eventually sliced a finger off yoi.”

Ace’s breath hitched at that and Marco stopped speaking, gauging Ace’s reaction. The fire user was staring at him, expression betraying nothing, so Marco continued. 

“Of course everything healed yoi. Then I got myself caught in seastone cuffs. Not knowing what they were, I fought like I still had my powers and lost my right forearm. They took two hours to get the cuffs off and guess what, everything that was missing regenerated yoi.” 

Ace barked a small laugh, releasing a breath he was unknowingly holding, “You sure talk a lot when your innards are falling out.” 

Marco suppressed a snort, not wanting to experience more pain than necessary, and was glad that he managed to pull a laugh out of Ace despite their less than favourable circumstances. He bumped his head against Ace’s palm, speaking firmly, wanting to reassure, “They’ll come get us and I’ll heal. Trust us yoi.” 

And that was the last thing he remembered. 

Marco woke up to the familiar beeping in Moby Dick’s infirmary. He could sense Ace’s presence beside him and there was nothing attached to his body, which was a good sign. He felt alright, albeit sluggish, as if he had slept for way too long. Calling forth his flames, Marco was glad when the phoenix answered and blue flames made a smooth trail from his shoulders down to the tip of his fingers. 

“Marco? You awake? Should I call the doctor?”

“No yoi. Let me sit for a bit,” Marco sat up in his bed and noticed the piece of light blue clothing folded neatly beside his pillow, also a glass of water on the side table which he gladly took. Ace truly had a way with people, Marco thought as he thumbed at his favourite sash, smiling softly, “Thank you yoi.” 

“You were out for a week.” Ace’s voice was hoarse, his hair messy and his chin covered with light stubble. “There were residual seastone particles in your body and we didn’t notice until day three. Deuce said those were a nightmare to clear. Too small and too scattered.”

Marco nodded in understanding and the room was once again silent apart from the constant beeping in the background. It took him a good minute before he shifted to the side of his bed, extending one hand to Ace, palm facing up. The confusion was clear but Ace took his hand anyway, allowing Marco to guide him until they stood facing each other. Grey eyes met blue for a brief moment, and Marco took a step forward, embracing Ace. 

“You must be worried yoi. I’m sorry.” 

Ace returned his hug instantly and was pliant in his hold, unusually quiet. Marco then transformed his arms into wings, enveloping Ace with soothing blue flames and Ace inhaled sharply, surprised. Touches were light and unsure as Ace tentatively explored the area on Marco’s shoulder where flesh met flames, the sensation peculiar to Marco but not unwelcomed. 

The phoenix cooed when Ace finally gathered enough courage to bury his fingers in Marco’s flames, drawing a chuckle out of Ace as the fire user grinned at him, clearly amused with his vocalization. Marco did not make a single sound afterwards. They shared the moment in comfortable silence until Marco sensed presence near the infirmary. He undid his transformation, patting Ace’s twice on the back and guided the younger man back to an arm’s length distance. 

Ace was looking much livelier now, his grin wide and his eyes sparkled despite the same unkempt appearance. Marco smiled in return as he sat leaning against the headboard, allowing Ace to pull a blanket over his legs before he casually mentioned, “Ask Thatch about my regeneration yoi. There’s a story he’d love to tell.”


	5. Chapter 5

Being one of the youngest in the crew, Ace certainly did not disappoint at being a little shit. He was stubborn as a mule, transparent in his emotion, explosive in his temper and when he laughed, he brightened the world. 

Thatch was the first to notice Ace’s tendency of being a brat, his logic working a little differently than most sane, responsible adults — not that Thatch was one. It was a rather early stage in their budding friendship, Ace needed to eat and Thatch prepared meals. Still feeling uncomfortable around his newfound family, Ace would look for Thatch in the mess hall at an ungodly hour in the morning, eyes barely lucid, stomach rumbling. 

“I’m hungry,” Ace would mumble, voice hoarse from sleep, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Thatch with his easy smile would greet Ace and fix him something to eat, allowing Ace to steal whatever that was edible on the counter-top, wanting to befriend the kid.

One time Thatch had rhubarb on the table. “Don’t eat those, the leaves are poisonous,” he reminded before going inside the kitchen, whistling a happy tune. He returned to Ace leaning sleepily against the counter-top, munching on the exact same leaves that he warned about. Ace spent the rest of the morning throwing up. 

Thatch thought this was an accident until there was a second time. He had his prized knife on the counter-top, a blade nearly sixty inches in length including handle, one he frequently used to fillet larger fish. “Don’t touch my baby now, she doesn’t play nice.” He returned to Ace running his index finger repeatedly on the edge of his knife, flames dancing prettily on the tip of a long finger.

“I’m telling you Marco, that kid is a little shit.” 

“Tell me something else yoi.” 

Marco had his own fair share of encounters. It was one of those days when the crew were trying to maul each other. They argued over the pettiest thing, going full out on the deck with their respective commanders cheering them on and pops being pops, he drank and placed bets. Marco had two hundred problems that day, he did not need another one. 

“Stop fighting yoi!” His voice was drowned in the _insanity_ around him, no one was listening and Marco had no patience, not on things like this. Transforming into half Zoan form with his talons out, Marco flew right into the mess of a fight and started flinging people overboard. 

“Shall I remind you,” another one into the sea, “That budget round was due two days ago and none of you had submitted shit yoi.” 

Haruta had the audacity to look sorry. Marco was rarely angry, but when he did it always ended up being frightening. The brawl almost came to a stop but a sudden burst of red flames exploded to life and Ace fire-punched someone nearest to him. That person retaliated with a low roundhouse kick but Ace dodged and the attack landed on another guy, officially triggering round two. 

Regeneration power or not, Marco’s temples were throbbing with pain. He dived towards Ace and swooped the fire user into the air with his talons, took a sharp left and released his hold as he turned. Ace was flung outwards, limbs flailing, but he was grinning so wide, so beautiful that Marco’s heart swelled from the brilliance of it.

Ace was having fun, Marco could not hold back a smile as he landed on the deck, realizing that Ace trusted them enough to fall despite not being able to swim. The crew caught sight of a smiling Marco, thinking that their first division commander had finally lost it and the fight stopped.

Another encounter worth mentioning was the infamous bath incident. One of the perks of being a commander was that they had their own private ensuite cabin, but Marco occasionally enjoyed a hot, relaxing bath at the communal bathroom. Wanting to avoid the crowd, he normally went after midnight but not everyday was equally lucky. 

Marco stepped into the changing room and stripped, taking only a small towel with him into the bath. The air inside was warm and foggy, smelling faintly of soap, and the bath seemed to be empty. Sitting on one of the low stools, he started washing himself, allowing his mind to slowly go blank — then he heard a loud splash.

“What the fuck?! Who pinched my ass!” That was most certainly Ace, yelling indignantly as he resurfaced from the bath. Another few splashes soon followed. 

“Man the water tastes disgusting.” 

“We have Kotatsu in here, of course the water tastes like shit.” 

“Why would you drink bath water? You dumb or what?” 

Marco sighed as he listened to the chatter, the lynx in question purring loudly in the background. With the number of splashes he heard, he might as well have guessed that the entire ex-Spade Pirates, short of the ladies, were in the bath. 

Running through a few possibilities in his mind, Marco wondered if leaving now would give an impression that he was distancing himself from Ace’s former crew. But if he stayed, this would mean joining nearly twenty men and a lynx in the bath, which was far from his idea of relaxing. He did not have time to think it through as Ace spotted him. 

“Marco, is that you? You wanna join us?” 

Ace sounded hopeful, Marco could hear the grin in his voice, and he simply did not have the heart to say no. Covering himself with a towel until he stepped into the sunken bath, Marco hummed appreciatively when warm water surrounded him like a cocoon. He picked a spot beside Ace, both his arms resting on the chilly floor, his head tilted back, “Did I interrupt anything yoi?” 

A resounding no could be heard, the men explaining over themselves that they were just being stupid. They had enough self-knowledge it seemed, Marco suppressed a snort and simply nodded, “Don’t worry about me yoi. Just continue what you all were doing.” In hindsight, that was probably the worst thing Marco could say. 

The group was apparently competing about who could hold their breath longest underwater and they were determined not to let Ace win. All the dirty tricks were out and Ace swore as he resurfaced first once again, rubbing furiously on a reddened spot on his waist, “Fuck you, and you, and you too.” 

Ace’s ex-crewmates were howling in laughter, making so much commotion that Marco received a face-full of bath water as collateral damage. He spluttered and coughed as water went up his nose, towel resting on his head falling into the milky bath. Ace, helpful for once, fished his towel out of the bath, waddled close to him and squeezed his towel dry before placing it on his forehead. 

Ace was close, so close and so naked that Marco could see every muscle ripple as he moved and every freckle, albeit sparse, on the broad chest. The younger man did not move away after that, he stared at Marco and tapped on his own right ear, his smile mischievous. Marco caught on instantly and killed his flames, frowning slightly as he had not lost control of his power for a very long time now, no matter how trivial. 

“Y’know commander,” Ace drawled, dark eyes sparkling with mirth, “I’m starting to think that it’s terrible of me to leave you alone when I invited you to join us.” With that said, Ace dived into the bath, splashing water all over Marco and before the older man could react, there was a pull on his ankle which almost brought him under. 

Modesty be damned, Marco lifted his upper body out of the water, strong arms steadying himself as he flung his leg overhead, sending Ace flying to the washing area. The fire user transformed into flames midway and charged towards Marco who was now a half phoenix, earning cheers and whoops from their spectators. 

They fought playfully, unable to do much in the limited space, and Ace was pinned under Marco mere minutes into their fight. It was not even a proper workout but Marco could hardly breathe at the sight of Ace, Ace who was laughing so much that he was in tears, head thrown back and eyes crinkling — he was breathtakingly gorgeous like this, happy and carefree. 

And that was exactly when Jozu and Izo walked in. Izo dropped his shampoo when he saw what he saw and Jozu averted his sight, coughing awkwardly. The group of ex-Spade Pirates were entirely too gleeful about the whole scenario and by the end of the day, all of Whitebeard Pirates were informed about the bath incident in various forms of exaggeration.

Ace was a little shit, Marco knew that from the very beginning of their relationship, and he would not trade it for anything else. 


	6. Chapter 6

Most would think that Marco, being dependable and all, got into far less trouble than his unruly siblings, they could not be more wrong. Perhaps it was the sheer number of solo mission runs, perhaps it was the tendency to shield attacks, or perhaps it was simply being kind, way too kind. 

Ace was with Marco when he first saw the older man got severely wounded. With a huge gash on his abdomen and innards threatening to spill, Marco asked for his trust, blood-crusted forehead resting gently against his palm. Ace was as angry as he was worried. The reason Marco got into this whole mess was because he protected civilians who were marine informants, unwilling to let harm come their way despite their betrayal.

“They’re just kids yoi. C’mon.” Ace was livid. His fists were tight, fire licking across his arms and Marco had to retract his hand, no longer protected by regenerative flames due to seastone cuffs. “Ace,” the phoenix called for him again, voice urgent but soft, and Ace relented. Glaring one last time at the group of trembling teenagers huddled around an unconscious Vice Admiral, Ace exited the building with Marco just to be met by a barrage of missiles raining down within their peripheral. 

Transforming into fire, Ace flanked Marco and they fought in perfect sync, defending themselves from marines and missiles alike. The fight was tough but manageable until a stray bomb hit the building they left moments ago, destroying the main beam and Marco — _stupid_ , kind Marco rushed over to support the crumbling structure. He yelled for the civilians to escape and when they dragged the supposedly unconscious marine right past Marco, the officer sprung to his feet, held one of the civilians in front of him and gutted the poor soul to get a hit on Marco. 

Ace felt sick to the stomach when he caught a glimpse of what was inside the long, deep cut. He exploded into flames and charged, slamming the enemy to the ground, hearing a loud crack when he forcibly removed the man from Marco’s choke-hold. The familiar odour of charred human flesh had never been so satisfying. 

Marco did not move from his position until all civilians were out of danger, his light blue sash a horrendous shade of copper red by the time he stepped aside and let the building collapse. Unable to comprehend Marco’s action, Marco’s _kindness_ , Ace swore. 

_Fucking hell Marco if you die I will kill you myself._

The next time Marco ran into trouble was merely two months later. The phoenix went on a solo scouting mission and returned to Moby Dick in his full phoenix form, blue flames rippling like waves. His backpack was flung onto the deck, huge wings flapped once, twice to slow his descent and talons gripped onto the ship’s railing as he landed. He did not transform back into human. 

The crew managed to piece the story together after a full hour of effort. In short, Marco was stuck in his Zoan form without the ability to speak. Slightly longer version went like this. Marco planned a stopover on an uninhabited island along his return path. Their intel was apparently wrong because there was in fact a small, isolated tribe residing there. Not wanting to establish contact, Marco's first reaction was to take flight but when he saw some sickly children on the verge of collapsing, he ended up staying.

Marco treated the tribespeople from prolonged food-poisoning and burned the culprit, an unknown type of fern, to a pile of ashes before he made preparation to leave. One of the youngest found him, tiny hands gripping onto the fabric of his pants and Marco knelt, gently holding her hands in his. That was when his transformation was forced out of him, phoenix roaring to life in a wild display of blue and yellow flames.

“This sounds similiar to something I’ve heard before. A power that temporarily manifests the user's ideal of a person or an object. Let me do some research.” 

Ace’s late morning entertainment ended when pops dismissed everyone on deck after deciding on an action plan, saying that he wanted to have some time with Marco. After they had their fill of teasing the phoenix, Ace left with other commanders, the sound of irate clacking and pops’ booming laugh could be heard from the deck. Snickering in delight, Thatch slung an arm over Ace’s shoulder as they headed towards the mess hall.

It was late evening when Ace brought Marco dinner, a big tray filled to the brim thanks to the latest betting pool about possible change in Marco’s diet. 

“Why is earthworm not on the list again?”   
“Who the fuck bet on chicken? Isn’t that like his distant relative?”   
“No, transponder snails should not be made into an escargot dish you uncultured swines.”

He found Marco roosting on the bed in his cabin, tails and talons nowhere to be seen, wings tucked tightly to the sides. The round ball of phoenix chirped when he saw Ace at the door, elegant neck tilted to the side and the younger man smiled. 

“You’re too kind,” Ace spoke while Marco ate, long fingers idly plucking each grape from its stalk and left it on the tray for the phoenix. “This is not the first time you got careless around children.” The phoenix chirped in agreement and continued eating, hardly offended by Ace’s comment. 

Ace however, was very much offended by Marco who took the situation lightly. He ruffled the flames on Marco’s back, giving it a firm pat, “Don’t think I won’t get mad at you because you’re cute.” The phoenix cooed then, eyes closed and flames fluffing out adorably, head gently butting his tattooed arm — Ace gave up. 

Marco’s kindness was not reserved only for children, it was pretty much free for all outside of battles. On rare occasions when he had spare time ashore, he carried groceries for old ladies and charmed them with his gentle voice, healed scraped knees for young children with magical blue fire, built shelter for strays out of discarded carton boxes. Ace could not believe half the shit he saw sometimes. 

The third time Marco got into trouble, as far as Ace was keeping count, happened when they anchored on an island with a tropical climate. The forest was dense, the air humid and the sun burned on their back. Pops and Marco left the ship to meet some old friends, promising to return in two hours but they were uncharacteristically late. Not a fan of sitting still, Ace went into the forest under the guise of exploring but when he was far enough, he stretched his poorly trained haki to locate the missing pair.

He eventually located pops and Marco by following the deafening sound of birds chirping and singing. Pops were lounging on top of a huge boulder with one hand extended and Marco was perching comfortably on pops’ sizeable forearm. There were hundreds of birds, if not thousands flocking around them, their size ranging from insanely huge to palm-sized tiny, their plumage radiant with bright, vivid colours. Some were resting on pops’ shoulders, tiny ones roosted on pops’ head and some daring ones rubbed their beaks on Marco’s flames before preening themselves, and Marco returned the gesture.

It was as beautiful as it was hilarious. 

“Son, come meet Marco’s friends,” Whitebeard laughed heartily when Ace took a seat beside him, his beaded necklace apparently an item of interest for smaller birds. “He had not visited in a long time so they’re not letting him go.”

Now that Ace was close enough, he could hear the phoenix sing. The melodious tune was easily drowned by surrounding noise, Marco’s avian friends responding to every call and whistle way too enthusiastically. The phoenix was completely at ease, flames shining under the sun, golden tails almost reaching the ground. It would have been a wonderful experience if not for his eardrums which were this close to rupturing.

When they returned to the ship, it was the three of them plus a gargantuan flock of birds, much to the surprise of their crewmates. Marco’s avian friends insisted on following them even after they set sail, resting and pooping everywhere on Moby Dick, creating more chaos than the crew could ever dream of. The cleaners were constantly scrubbing the deck due to birds’ excrement and everyone’s ears suffered when the birds decided to vocalise all at the same time. 

“Goddammit Marco! If your friends shit on my kimono one more time I will fry them alive and feed them to you. You hear me?!”   
“Um, commander. I work night shift so can you um, ask your friends to tone down a little?”   
“GET THESE DAMN BIRDS OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!” 

Marco’s avian friends sailed with them for three full days before they changed direction and returned to their own island, making a huge fuss by singing their heart out. Marco stood at the masthead, watching the flock heading towards the blazing sunset and he whistled a calm, nostalgic tune to say goodbye. As for Ace, he sat crossed-legged beside pops on the deck full of bird shit, watching the sunset and watching _Marco_ , feeling just right at home. 


	7. Chapter 7

The condition of Marco’s cabin was unsatisfactory at best. Some of the drawer handles were missing, there was not enough storage space, the furniture was wobbly, his bathroom’s door would not shut right and there was only a thin mattress with a single pillow on his bed. _Unacceptable_ , his phoenix chided, _is that mold on the wall?_

He first requested permission from pops, explaining that his cabin had not been renovated since he took over as commander. Whitebeard laughed and agreed, even offering additional allowance out of his own pocket which Marco politely declined. He then spoke to Fossa, providing a sketch of what he had in mind along with all required measurements. 

“About damn time, Marco. Do you have place to bunk for a week?”   
“I’ll sleep in the mid-cabin.”  
“Good. My men will get everything done by the time we dock on the next island.” 

Gossip travelled fast on Moby Dick and by the time Marco entered the mess hall for dinner, everyone knew about his little project. “I’ll miss your bathroom door,” Thatch looked ridiculously forlorn for someone who was spouting nonsense, “It did such a great job at providing zero privacy to its owner.”

“Remember the nurse who saw Marco taking a piss?”   
“Right into the toilet bowl, no spill, no splash, husband material. What is this anyway, midlife crisis?”   
“Nah our birdy must’ve found a mate and needed a nicer nest.”

Marco stared at Thatch with his default bored expression, not giving away the fact that Thatch actually hit bullseye for once. His nest was only as good as a dumpster according to his phoenix and his instinct compelled him to provide better, berating him on the many occasions he allowed a drunken Ace to sleep on the floor. 

So yes, he needed a nicer nest for his future mate. Even though said mate was currently making stupid comments like “It’s for the eggs, Thatch. Where is your perseverance?” 

Renovation of Marco’s cabin was completed six days later when most of the crew were ashore. His room was furnished in rich mahogany and polished oak, wood grain looking especially beautiful when light hit at the right angle. The bed was upgraded to fit two with a solid mattress, six pillows and brand new bedding. His bathroom door was finally working too, much to everyone’s dismay. 

Ace visited late at night when Marco was organizing his belongings into different drawers. The fire user came barging into his newly renovated cabin, thrusting a bunch of flowers thrown into a crumbling arrangement into his hands, “Con— hic! Congratulations!” 

The bouquet was made up of blue and yellow flowers, the combination of colours complimented his greyish blue bedding perfectly and reminded him of his flames. There was no vase in his room so Marco downed a bottle of booze in one shot, cleaned the bottle and stuffed all the flowers into the makeshift vase.

With all of that done, Marco sat beside Ace who was still grinning in a drunken stupor, and he returned a smile of his own while ruffling Ace’s hair, “Thank you yoi.” Marco then continued his task, enjoying the silent company and chuckling to himself when he heard Ace’s occasional hiccups.

It was only until Ace started to doze off that Marco stopped what he was doing. He shook the younger man gently, making sure Ace was somehow lucid when he patted the bed. There was no exchange of words as Ace stripped down to his boxers and climbed onto Marco’s bed, curling into himself while clutching a pillow close to his chest.

Ace smelled like a restaurant to be honest but Marco could not bring himself to mind. It was perfect to have Ace sleeping soundly on their bed, so trusting and defenseless in their nest and it was all Marco and his phoenix could ask for. 

\-----

After years of observation, Marco came to a conclusion that there was an exponential positive correlation between stages of intoxication and level of stupidity among his siblings, he himself included.

There was this incident years ago where Vista’s chest hair was waxed the same as Thatch’s nether region, a heart shaped patch dyed into the most obnoxious shade of pink. Sign of brotherly camaraderie they said, Vista without a shirt and Thatch wearing absolutely nothing, completely shit-faced in a shady massage parlour when Marco found them.

Then there was another incident where his whole division decided to sport his hairstyle as a sign of unity and solidarity. Marco vaguely remembered perching on pops’ shoulder to avoid drunken, grabby hands, trying but ultimately failing to comprehend the absurdity of… well, everything. They were known as the formidable pineapple division for a very long time after that, by pirates and marines alike. 

And naturally there was the missing appendage incident way, way back.

Marco was still an apprentice then, young, inexperience and mostly dumb. A group of them was wreaking havoc in an outdoor bath after having too much to drink, comparing height and dicks in an attempt to flaunt their fledgling masculinity. Marco was by no means small but his crewmates were freakishly huge and at some point the discussion took an immature turn.

“Mine’s thicker.”  
“Well mine’s curving slightly upward and the ladies love it.”  
“None of you can regenerate your dick yoi.” 

Marco’s memory was fuzzy but he remembered someone throwing a dagger at him, asking him to prove it and being young and stupid, Marco did. With his lower legs submerged in the bath, Marco made a swift cut at the base of his penis, expecting his power to kick in instantly but all he felt was an excruciating pain as he crumbled face down into the bath. 

It was pure chaos afterwards, with the bath water turning pink from his blood and his crewmates scrambling to pull him out from water while yelling for medics in the women's bath. To everyone’s surprise however, a burst of blue flames came to life once Marco was out of the bath and his missing dick regenerated, resting soft and comfy on his bloody groin. The silence lasted for three seconds before everyone erupted in laughter, guffawing like their lives depended on it while Marco held his precious member in his palm, eyes wide in shock. 

In the end, when half-naked medics barged into the men’s bath, they treated Thatch who was on the verge of suffocating and Nekomamushi who straight out fainted from laughing too much. Marco learnt the hard, painful way that his power generally would not work if he was in water, not just seawater. His control improved over the years and he could activate his flames while being partially submerged but he could never get rid of the phantom pain between his legs whenever he thought about this incident. 

“You’re unbelievable.” It was past midnight when Ace returned to Marco’s cabin, all grins and smiles. The younger man set his wallet and dagger on the desk, carefully avoided stacks of paperwork as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on Marco’s hair, “Can’t believe you cut your dick off. In water.” 

“Hello Ace,” Marco smiled, gently tugging the fire user down as he closed their distance, “So you’ve finally asked Thatch.” 

“Man I almost peed myself,” Ace was still grinning when Marco kissed him on the lips, his torso vibrating from suppressed laughter, fingers tangled in blonde locks, “Do you have a lot to do still?” 

“Not much left. Go take a shower yoi, you reek.” Giving a gentle pat on Ace’s back, Marco returned to his work, his line of sight occasionally drifting to Ace who was stripping without a care. 

It had been a while since they developed an unspoken routine where Ace spent nearly every night in Marco’s cabin despite having his own as second division commander. His clothes occupied part of Marco’s wardrobe, there was a designated wall hook for his hat and his mug was always on Marco’s desk. It was all very domestic and Marco’s phoenix approved the arrangement. 

When Ace stepped out of the bathroom stark naked while towelling his hair dry, Marco was reading on the bed with glasses resting low on his nose bridge, wearing just a pair of worn sweatpants. Ace climbed onto the bed and rested his head on Marco's thigh, towel thrown haphazardly over the back of Marco’s chair, hair still damp. 

“How’s your day?”   
“Not bad yoi. Even better now that you’re here.”   
“... Sappy old man. How many days until the next island?”

This was also part of their routine, making small, mindless talk while lying close to one another, sharing jokes and warmth before they finally succumbed to sleep. It was always at nights like these when Ace was close and they were warm that his phoenix would coo in contentment, lulling Ace to slumber. 

It was also at nights like these when Marco would watch Ace, committing the trusting, defenseless face into memory, cooing gently long after Ace fell asleep. Marco was never a fan of routine, preferring irregularity and spontaneity over repetition, but this was something he could live with for the rest of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

The courtship of a phoenix was a complex and superfluous affair. Marco would sigh just thinking about it while his phoenix would trill in excitement, chest out and head held high, ready to impress. 

In the beginning there was this urge to be with Ace all the time, his phoenix yearning to learn anything and everything about their potential mate, the very first one they came across in Marco’s lifetime. Marco wanted to touch, knowing how warm Ace would be, having to hug the younger man on multiple occasions. He wanted to look at Ace and observe how the fire user laughed with his whole body. He wanted to feel, to experience the unbidden loyalty and strength coming from Ace who was brave and kind to a fault.

His phoenix, hopelessly infatuated, wanted nothing but to preen like a peacock in front of Ace. It did not take long for his phoenix to solidify Ace’s position as future mate instead of a potential one, and Marco acknowledged the same sometime after. With that, the official courtship started. 

First there was the nest. Marco’s cabin was smaller than ideal so he went out his way to make it comfortable. He sacrificed his private collection of books to accommodate a bigger bed, added a cushioned bench, reserved additional wardrobe space and bought too many pillows. Eventually the perfect nest came to be and Marco gave himself a mental pat when he managed to get a drunken, smelly Ace to christen their new bed.

With the prerequisite of a nest being fulfilled, Marco began courtship feeding. He was subtle, often offering food to a group of people but always saving the best for Ace. Be it the fattiest slice of an elephant tuna or the most tender cut of a wild boar, Marco made sure Ace ate well. Oblivious as he was, Ace did not notice a thing as he wolfed down the exquisite cuisine, thanking Marco with his mouth full. Thatch, once he got past his initial shock, started sneaking inconspicuous little hearts carved out of ghost pepper into Ace’s meals.

_I got your back, brother. I got your back._

His phoenix also did a fair share of courtship feeding, only without a care for subtlety. He foraged for the sweetest, juiciest berries even in the harshest of weathers, viciously pecking anyone who attempted to steal from Ace. He patiently cracked open each sunflower seed until he had a small bowl full, chirping happily when Ace swallowed everything after chewing twice. 

Ace unknowingly returned the gesture one day when he plucked each grape from the stalk and offered it to Marco. It happened when Marco was confined in his Zoan form due to an accident with a devil fruit user, and it took all of Marco’s willpower to stop the phoenix from rubbing foreheads with Ace there and then. In courtship terms, Ace just acknowledged Marco’s ability to provide and his phoenix was on cloud nine. 

Alongside courtship feeding was the display. It was difficult, not to mention awkward for Marco to flaunt as a human but as a phoenix, it was a walk in the park. Consideration for propriety was out of the window since every moment was deemed appropriate by his phoenix. He did it on top of the main mast when he knew Ace was watching, extending his wings to show his wing span, flapping them twice to hint how powerful they could be. He held his head high when he was done, accentuating the curve of his neck and trilled the brightest, happiest sound he could manage. 

He also did it in the communal bath when he was play-fighting Ace, his phoenix screaming to take charge because Ace was naked, he was naked and they were so _close_. Marco, clutching to his rapidly dwindling sanity, allowed only partial transformation and tried to block-out the embarrassing — horrifying actually — thoughts in his mind. He settled for flexing his arms when he held Ace down, biceps rock-hard with exertion, one muscular thigh between Ace’s flailing legs. Marco had no idea whether his half-assed attempt at display had any effect on Ace, but the sight of a happy, laughing Ace literally stole his breath away.

Inevitably, it came to a point where Marco had to face the most dreaded part of his ritual, the courting dance. His phoenix requested practice until perfection, even suggested a neutral audience which Marco refused. They made do with recording the whole thing with a visual transponder snail, correcting minor missteps along the way, committing each instinctual step into muscle memory.

Marco practiced at the earliest of dawn, when the sky was dark and the only sound he heard was the waves. He would fly to the nearest island, close enough to return during breakfast but far enough from prying eyes, taking only the transponder snail with him. He honed his dives and dips, timed his vocalization to every step, memorized the exact force needed to twirl his tails in a certain way. The dance was elegant, passionate and absolutely mesmerizing to watch, even more so when Marco perfected it. 

Marco danced for Ace on a spring island under the morning sun. He could feel Ace’s quickening pulse under his thumb as they strolled, Marco leading Ace by the wrist, the morning breeze chilly on his bare chest. They stopped at a clearing with little yellow flowers blooming around them, the sky cloudless and the ocean calm. 

“This is for you yoi,” Marco whispered as he thumbed on Ace’s inner wrist, a small smile on his lips, almost shy. Ace nodded and was left breathless when Marco transformed and shot up into the blue, blue sky — the very first move of the phoenix’s courting dance. Everything after that was a blur for Marco. The dance came naturally, elegance and strength, passion and precision, each move was completed with ease and the vocals, intricately arranged and perfectly timed, were the proof of his dedication. 

Ace knew nothing about birds’ courtship rituals. Heck he barely knew anything about human’s courtship rituals. But he stared, he grinned, laughed when Marco did a ridiculously cute hop on his fucking _talons_ — his heart a throbbing, aching mess. 

Marco landed in front of Ace after a good ten minutes of show, all litheness and grace. They stood close, Ace quietly watching the wave-like rippling of Marco’s flames before reaching out with his own. The phoenix cooed at the contact, flames fluffing and Marco gently rubbed his forehead against Ace’s, closing his dance with a final move. 

It was an intimate gesture, a symbol of affection and respect, shared only between mates or close family and friends. Ace had his eyes closed, palm resting on the side of the phoenix’s neck, his breathing shallow. The phoenix relinquished control soon after that and Marco transformed back into human form without warning, making Ace jump. 

“You gotta stop doing that,” The fire user grumbled, all traces of gentle intimacy gone now. “What was that forehead thing anyway?” 

“It means I like you yoi.” 

Ace was instantly red all the way to the tips of his ears and Marco laughed, pulling the younger man into an easy hug. Ace was pliant, quiet as their surroundings, so when the fire user suddenly pulled him down by his shirt collar, head tilted back in determination, it was too late for Marco to pull away. Their foreheads collided with a loud crack, _goddamn haki_ , and Marco’s flames came alive to soothe the pain. Ace seemed sheepish, he scratched his head and looked everywhere but at Marco, mumbling under his breath, “I like you too. A lot.”

The phoenix completed his courtship ritual when the sky was blue and the sea was tranquil. It was a beautiful morning on a spring island, and Marco linked his fingers with his mate's when they sat on the beach overlooking an endless expanse of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
